


The House is on Fire, God is Dead

by GufettoGrigio



Category: Formula 1 RPF, Motorsport RPF
Genre: But I needed a pick me up because classic F1 is pain, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Plus random older drivers, So shenanigans, Teams as they were in 2020, Toddlers, this is random
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:33:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29445609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GufettoGrigio/pseuds/GufettoGrigio
Summary: Daniil sighs. "Do we even know how it happened? Or why?""No idea. It just looks like every driver over the age of 26 just suddenly turned back into a toddler.""How do we know it's 26? Like…""Well, Kevin is like that" - that meaning currently hiding with Romain behind Pierre’s legs and staring evilly at Nico who is sticking his tongue out at him - "but you and Carlos are still normal?""Point."And this, ladies and gentlemen, is how the Fucking Mess from Hell begun.
Relationships: Alexander Albon & Lando Norris & George Russell, Antonio Giovinazzi & Charles Leclerc & Kimi Räikkönen & Sebastian Vettel, Daniel Ricciardo & Max Verstappen, David Coulthard & Mika Häkkinen, Esteban Ocon & Sergio Perez & Lance Stroll, Jenson Button & Fernando Alonso, Lando Norris & Max Verstappen, Lewis Hamilton & Nico Rosberg, Nico Hulkenberg & Kevin Magnussen, Pierre Gasly & Romain Grosjean, Romain Grosjean & Kevin Magnussen
Comments: 13
Kudos: 51





	1. The house is on fire, God is dead.

**Author's Note:**

> Look, I know. I know it's been done before by people who write them much better than me but I needed a refresher because I have written nothing but angst recently so yeah...this is kind of my send off to the 2020 grid. First and last time I'll write some of these characters.  
> To give credit where credit is due I think [Tiny Drivers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12915402/chapters/29509353) by MerlinSpecter is the one that started this.  
> The idea from the title comes from the babysitting alignment chart.  
> Which is great.  
> I digress.  
> Enjoy?
> 
> PS: If you expect my usual level of intense writing...don't. This is a shitpost :)

**The House is on Fire, God is Dead**

  
  


“What the fuck?!” 

What the fuck indeed, Max thinks, trying and failing not to gape at the toddler in front of him. Said toddler looks just as perplexed, clumsily patting around to figure out how to detangle his limbs from the coils of a now oversized Renault racing suit.

"Daniel?" Lando asks.

Daniel - well, tiny version of Daniel - looks up at him and nods. Then starts to giggle because the sound Lando makes is definitely closer to that of a squeaky toy than anything human. 

"I am going to find someone" Max decides, before the situation gets any weirder. He makes a dash for the door of Daniel's drivers room, throwing it open and he is ready to shout for someone, anyone, even Esteban when he suddenly looks down and he is met with a mop of blond hair and a pair of huge blue eyes staring perplexed back at him.

"Oh, shit!"

__

“Houston, we have a problem.”

"Non me ne ero accorto, cazzo!" Antonio swears, trying to wrestle his teammate out of both his racing suit and the cockpit. Charles does not envy him at all. At least Toddler Seb had been quite happy to be picked up and just cuddled closer to Charles. Kimi instead has, _of course_ , already managed to switch on the engine and it's a small mercy that he can't actually reach the pedals.

"Maybe we should go get Valtteri?" - Charles tries, because sure as hell neither him nor Antonio have _any_ ideas what the angry-sounding clicking noises coming from Kimi actually mean.

"Buona idea...actually..." - Antonio points at Charles and Seb - "Kimi, look! That's Seb there! Don't you want to go play with Seb? Yes?"

It works like a charm - figures the one thing that Kimi wants more than his car is his Seb. Given that Charles all of a sudden has a giggling mess of a toddler trying to squirm out of his arms, it seems the feeling is mutual. 

__

After a quick round of panicked phone calls, they convene in the central hospitality for a headcount. Ferrari, Alpha Romeo and Renault are all in the same boat with half the team currently (as George puts it) knee-high to a grasshopper. Mercedes is nowhere to be seen. Toro Rosso and Red Bull are unscathed but have brought along the shrunken versions of Haas and Force India - pardon, _Racing Point_ ...Ashton Martin...whatever _._ Checo and Nico are too much for one lonely Lance to handle _._ McLaren is the last to arrive.

"It’s an curse. A curse, I tell you." Carlos mutters, shaking his head. There is a brown haired, Spanish-looking toddler in a McLaren t-shirt on his hip. “It’s the older drivers too." - Carlos informs the room - "As in, the retired ones. Say “Hola!” Nano. Jense."

Little Fernando smiles happily and waves at the boys. Jenson waves too from where he is perched on Lando's shoulders.

Daniil sighs. "Do we even know how it happened? Or why?"

"No idea. It just looks like every driver over the age of 26 just suddenly turned back into a toddler."

"How do we know it's 26? Like…"

"Well, Kevin is like that" - _that_ meaning currently hiding with Romain behind Pierre’s legs and staring evilly at Nico who is sticking his tongue out at him - "but you and Carlos are still normal?"

"Point."

"So what do we do?"

"Wait, then Mercedes are toddlers too?"

They are about to organize a search party- i.e. send George (and Alex for moral support) - when a terrifying realization pops up in Pierre’s head.

"Oh, putain! If it's the older drivers too, does that mean the ones involved with the press are also…?"

__

The answer to Pierre’s question, of course, is yes. Their only stroke of luck is that there actually were not as many retired drivers around for this race as there could have been. No one can imagine having to deal with a toddler version of Jackie Stewart or, heaven forbid, Nelson Piquet. Little Damon is as polite and well behaved as his adult self, sitting properly in his chair and just swinging his legs back and forth. Nico Rosberg is not the worst that could happen either, the blond German smiling happily at them from where he is perched on a table in the media pen. DC is another matter entirely. Pierre is pretty sure headphones chords should not be used as skipping ropes.

__

For once, Red Bull decides to have mercy on their drivers. DC is ruled to be a McLaren issue and Mika is sent to retrieve him. When the Finn finally arrives, David has forgotten all about headphones and has instead managed to take apart his microphone, happily chewing away at the foam cover. 

"I thought you people were joking." Mika says, taking in the state of his former teammate.

Lando and George, who had been appointed reluctant babysitters in virtue of their teams and nationality, glance at each other.

"If it's a joke, it's not funny."

David pulls the foam out of his mouth and giggles. "It is fun!"

Mika raises an eyebrow then chuckles too. "Yes. Let's go, David."

The Scot rips what is left of the foam off the microphone and sits up from the floor, toddling over excitedly to his former teammate. Mika picks him up with a smile, settling him on his hip. It's like witnessing some kind of magic: all the bouncing energy DC had had until then suddenly disappearing as he yawns and cuddles into Mika's neck. The Finn just ruffles his hair and nods at the two boys before heading for the door.

"Wait! Wait! Mika, what do we do with Hill?"

"Oh...I don't know? What did Williams say? Or his family?"

Lando and George look at each other.

"Well, we can't exactly return him to his family like this!"

"And he can't stay here?" - Lando explains, fidgeting slightly- "It's not that we don't want him. It's just that...well, there's so many of them!"

Little Damon raises his hand. "I want Jack." Then he thinks about it. "Please."

"Jack?"

"You mean Jackie? Stewart?"

Damon shakes his head. "No. Not Uncle Jackie. Jack."

"Perfect" - Mika agrees, clearly more concerned with shoving two fingers in DC's mouth to retrieve the last piece of foam before the tiny Scot can choke on it - "There you have it. Just ship him off to Canada." 

"Canada!?" - Lando asks but Mika is already out of the door.

The boys turn back to Damon, who is looking expectantly at the two of them. When nothing seems to be coming, his bottom lip starts to wobble, huge brown eyes filling with tears.

"Oh, shit! We made Damon Hill cry!" Lando shrieks, ducking bravely behind George - which, if you ask George, is not helpful. He carefully reaches out to pat Damon's head.

"There’s no need to cry. We'll find a place where you can stay, yes?"

Damon just pouts, voice wobbling. "But...but David got Mika! Why can't I get Jack?"

At last the lightbulb goes off in George's head.

"Oh. He means Jacques!"

"Are we sure Jacques Villeneuve is the most indicated person to take care of a toddler?" - Lando says, still hiding behind him.

Damon's eyes promptly fill with tears again. 

George shoves a hand on Lando's mouth.

"I honestly don't care. Canada it is."

__

(Nico R. has been ruled to be Mercedes issue. Said decision came after an animated discussion between the team's administration and one Lewis Hamilton, which ended with a clear imprint of Lewis' teeth on Toto's shin. There is now an indistinguishable lump of black and blond toddler cuddling up under a blanket on the couch in the Mercedes hospitality. Given the growls coming from the cocoon whenever somebody tries to approach, the general consensus is to leave the two well enough alone. “At some point, they'll need to come out to eat” - Toto had shrugged when presented with the problem - “or they'll eat each other and we won't have to worry anymore.”)


	2. The FMH - Why is it always Red Bull?

**The FMH - Sorting out the Hospitality**

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is how the Fucking Mess from Hell begun. (FMH for short and in front of the press who has, thankfully, yet to catch on.) After a day of trying to manage the FMH in separate teams (and horribly failing) the remaining adult-ish drivers come to the unanimous decision to put aside their differences and pool their combined efforts into making sure a) everyone survives the night b) nobody escapes and c) nobody loses their mind. Who the plan is actually meant for is still up for debate.

__

But survive the night they do. Somehow. More or less. Except that now it’s morning and, between Valtteri trying to steal Dany’s coffee and promptly spilling it all over himself, Lewis throwing a tantrum over his almond milk and Checo falling asleep with his face in the plate, it becomes clear that the FMH is not going to magically sort itself out any time soon and that long term solutions need to be found. 

__

The bright idea had then popped up into somebody’s head around midday, after lunch had needed to be hastily replaced by _sealed_ cups of instant coffee. The idea? Contain their problem and pool their efforts: turn the main hospitality room into a nursery. Cue an impromptu trip to the nearest Ikea with a truck borrowed from one of the crews (No, Lando, you are not driving it. We don’t care if you have a Super License. So does Max and he is _not_ driving it either. Cabrones, let the _professionals_ drive it.) 

This is how Nicky finds himself staring at the results of said trip, nicely packed into a giant pyramid of boxes in the otherwise empty room.

"Why us?"

Max shrugs. “Because we are the most likely to get shit done?” 

“Are we?” Lance mumbles and yes, Nicky feels that. Completely. 

Lando just laughs, excited. “Come on! It’s going to be fun!”

Several hours, two hammered fingers and three panicked phone calls to team managers later, the boys are sitting into a _furnished_ room next to the unavoidable pile of misplaced screws. It turned out quite nicely - Nicky has to admit. The room is an eclectic mix of colorful furniture with more toys and plushies than Nicky thinks any child would ever need. They even have one of those fancy lamps that projects animal shadows on the walls and that Alex had always dreamed of when he was a child. Even the couch is comfy.

Of course, that’s when Antonio walks in, Daniel perched on his shoulder, the little Aussie completely engrossed in trying to braid what part of the Italian’s hair he is not chewing on.

“Please, tell me we can release the pests.”

  
  


**Managing the Hospitality - Why is it always Red Bull?**

  
  


**It gives you wings**

"Guys, apparently 'Flying Finn' can have a literal meaning."

“Also, chairs. Chairs fly too.”

“Is that what happened to the wall, Lando?”

“Err…not exactly?”

“Was it Kimi or Val?”

“I would say Kimi, going by the shape of the hole.”

“Hey! Don’t look at me like that, Carlos! It’s not my fault! Max is the one who left his can of Red Bull unattended!”

“Max…”

“Well, I have it on fucking good authority Red Bull doesn’t _actually_ give you wings! How the fuck was I supposed to know that doesn’t apply to Finns? Or furniture?”

“Do we need to drive anyone to the hospital?”

“No clue. Give it an hour and see if they start crying?” 

**Ferrari to the rescue (kind of)**


	3. Interlude

**Interlude**

"How is DC?" - Lando and Carlos ask when Mika calls to make sure they are still alive. With the McDads out of commission, apparently that responsibility now falls on the Finn. 

"He is getting really good at setting things on fire" - Mika says, sounding strangely proud.

Lando and Carlos look at each other.

"How is that a good thing, exactly?"

"Well, I suppose for Eddie's yacht it's not." 

(Surprisingly there's no news of wildfires from Canada. Jacques posts a couple of Insta-stories with little Damon who seems quite happy where he is. Who knew that Villeneuve was good at babysitting?) 


	4. Brocedes

**Brocedes**

Nico Rosberg is a fucking nightmare. Scratch that. Brocedes is a fucking nightmare. Will they gang up together to wreak havoc? Will they cuddle cutely with their rat plushies and help translate Finnish? Will they tear each other's hair out? Who knows. For two people whose adult versions claim to hate each other, they sure seem to be on the same fucking page when it comes to being moody messes.

__

It starts with the remote. Or better, it starts with Jenson throwing the remote at Nando. Which soon escalates in a game of dodgeball...or dodge the remote.

The jury is still out on whether Lewis actually meant to throw the remote _that_ hard. But a bloody nose and a crying Nico definitely brought the game to a swift end and the remote safely back in Carlos and Dany's hands.

__

The incident seems settled for a grand total of 10 minutes - Nico's nose is not actually broken and a bruise is not something a hug from Jense and a reluctant apology from Lewis can't fix. It's only when the room has gone back to normal, games and chatter picking up again, that Lewis wobbles his way over to Carlos.

"Can we have the 'mote back, please? Not to throw it."

"But you have thrown it, so no."

"Pretty please? Me and Nico are okay now!"

Carlos personally thinks that Lewis and Nico are anything _but_ ok, _ever_ \- but that would be a statement about their adult selves mental stability (or lack thereof) - so Carlos is going to refrain from voicing that particular thought.

"No, Lewis. You cannot have the remote back."

"But…"

"No."

Lewis stares. Carlos stares back. Then Lewis turns around and wobbles over to Nico. For an elated, wonderful second, Carlos thinks he has won. 

__

It takes about 3 minutes tops for Nico to be pulling at Carlos' sleeve and pointing at the TV.

“Can I have the remote back, please?”

Carlos sighs. “No, chiquito. We can't give you the remote."

The tiny German tilts his head on the side, big blue eyes looking pleadingly up at the Spaniard.

"But I share with Lew, promise! No more fights!"

"No, Nico, sorry. No remote."

Nico pouts, eyes going even bigger. "We won't break it. Or hit each other with it. Pinky Promise!"

"No." Daniil interrupts, jumping in before Carlos can give in to the puppy eyes. Really, these kids.

"Oh." Nico says, looking slightly dejected. He turns to glance at Lewis, head tilting to the other side. Lewis nods and Nico looks back up at Carlos with a smile. A full, terrifying, 24 teeth smile. What follows is the most ear-piercing, soul-destroying, blood curdling, Munch-did-not-know-what-the-fuck-he-was-on-about scream in the history of screams. Carlos nearly jumps out of his skin. His hands instinctively fly up to cover his ears or throttle Nico, one of the two, and the remote clatters to the floor in the commotion. Lewis lunges for it and, the second after, him and Nico are scrambling away in a strategic retreat underneath the couch. 

Carlos and Daniil are left there stunned, staring at the couch while the room all around them has gone eerily silent. It only gets worse when they crouch down to peer under the couch. It's something out of a horror movie: two pairs of eyes blink menacingly from the darkness, daring them to try, just fucking try. With a click, the TV turns on to the Disney Channel.

Whatever comes out of Daniil’s mouth is probably not FIA standard but Carlos is not going to enquire nor disagree as long as half of it means "I am going to go find Toto."


	5. 5 Conversations that should not be happening

**5** **conversations that should not be happening**

**(1) Ferrari**

“Kimi, what do you have there?”

“Kimi, please, show me.”

“Ehh...Antonio, don’t get mad but…”

“Dio Santo, porco schifo, Charles! How the fuck did he get your car keys?!”

“...I am not getting them back, am I?”

“Probably not. Please, go let the air out of the tires or something before he sneaks out and drives away.”

**(2) Lando**

“How do I fix the hiccups?!

"Put him upside down?"

"Shit! Lando, I was joking!"

**(3) Help**

“Where’s Checo?”

“Guys, I am serious, where is Checo?”

“Checo?”

“Checo?”

“SERGIO?” 

“...”

“Pierre, please go get Lance a pack of ice.”

“What? Why?”

“Checo was on top of the bookshelf. With building blocks.”

“He does not appreciate being called by his given name.”

“At least you found him?”

“I am not sure I can feel my eye.”

  
  
**(4) Mercedes 2016**

“I hate you.”

“Me too!”

“Should we go find Toto?”

“Nah, they’ll be hugging in a sec….and see? What did I tell you?”

“What the fuck is wrong with them?”

“Have they always been this way?”

“Oh, I forgot you guys have never driven with the Brocedes. They are actually being cute right now.”

“Max is right: imagine that same conversation on track at 200 mph.”

  
**(5) Pain**

“I am banning Lego.”

“What? Why? Lego is fun!”

“On the floor at half six in the morning, no it’s not!”


	6. THE FMH - Pinboards

**The FMH- Pinboards**

**Problem Solving with Red Bull**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to boredpanda.com for some amazing toddler pictures and tweets


	7. Haas - Hic sunt monsters

**Haas needs to go to sleep**

Kevin Magnussen is Max's new favourite person. Really. He just...sulks. In a corner. By himself. In silence. Blessed, wonderful, fucking silence. Max has learned to be grateful for small things.

__

The knock on the door is so quiet he almost misses it. With a sigh, Max districates himself from Lando's clutches and stumbles his way to the door. He is not sure who he expects exactly - one of the others or Christian or somebody from the hotel, maybe. Instead he is met with a tiny Dane sporting a determined look over his little face and a sleepy Romain holding his hand.

"In" - Kevin says, pushing at Max's legs with his free hand when the Dutch doesn't move fast enough for his liking. 

"On ne pouvait pas dormir..." The little Frenchie mumbles, rubbing his eyes with his free hand.

Any time that is not stupid o’clock in the morning, Max would probably have been able to translate that but, since it is stupid o’clock in the morning, he just stands there staring at them instead. Then his brain finally decides to engage and subsequently that the best course of action to _French_ is to find a shoe and chuck it in the general direction of where Pierre is sleeping sprawled halfway off the couch (the bed in Max’s room had been deemed to small for three - more or less - grown up humans). 

“Quoi?” Pierre groans but he gets up and pads over to see what’s going on. Max points at the two boys.

“On ne pouvait pas dormir…” Romain tries again, still not letting go of Kevin’s hand. Kevin, who has been holding the door open all this time without actually trying to get in, nods his little head seriously.

"There were monsters under the bed. We could not sleep." He explains, while continuing to hold the door open.

“Oh. Was there nobody downstairs?”

Pierre, always the kind one, gives Max a look and then smiles at the boys “Do you want to come sleep with us?”

Kevin shakes his head and points at the inside of the room. “I brought them here. _They_ can stay. We go back to bed.”

Romain waves with his free hand “Bonne nuit!” 

And off they are, marching down the hallway.

__

Max and Pierre stare in silence at the darkness of the room, then at each other, then at hallway the two toddlers just disappeared down. A light flickers and dies off.

Turns out they were wrong.

The bed can definitely hold three people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And to think that this had started out as an exercise in writing a full cast of characters. Oh, well. I might write more in the future but can't promise :) If you have ideas, drop me a message on tumblr or in the comments and I'll see what I can do though I am terrible at prompts. Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
